Forever and Always
by Rainbow Fruit Loop
Summary: "His heart is breaking; and it's a deep, agonizing, excruciatingly insufferable pain. It's the type of pain that makes him want to scream, and scares him that he's not." Contains blood, language and a surprisingly happy ending. Matt/Mello. Three-shot.
1. Decision

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, or it's characters, and this saddens me greatly. All credit goes to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.

Author's note: Hey guys~ This is an incredibly late fan fiction written for _'tii-chan17' _as a thanks for her choosing me to be her beta. (:  
>I rated this 'T', but I'm not sure if should be 'M'. There's no smut in it, and nothing too graphic blood-wise, so I decided on 'T'. There's blood and language, that's all. But, I will say it now; this fic <em>will<em> have a happy ending. (: I'm not _that _evil. Oh, and this might just be me, but I can _totally _see Mello being slightly bipolar. No disrespect to anyone who _is _bipolar, of course. (:  
>~Please review!~ (: I love reviews, just so you all know. (:<p>

~Rainbow Fruit Loop.

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><p>~Forever and Always~<br>_Chapter One_

"Hey Mels…? We need to talk. Now."

A man with dark red, slightly messy hair is scrawled out on a large bed in the middle of an equally large bedroom. He is wearing a slightly baggy black and red striped shirt over tight, dark pants, and his favourite orange-tinted goggles.

The goggles hide his stunning dark green eyes, which, although it is hard for those who do not know him well enough to see, hold a mixture of hurt and fear.

Matt hadn't meant for his words to sound so incredibly cliché, but he's said them now. There's no going back.

His request is directed at the gorgeous, leather-clad male in the corner of the room, who is hunched over a large stack of papers.

They're all to do with the Kira case.

His blonde hair is mussed up – as is a result of his running his fingers through it every few minutes out of exasperation.

The blonde doesn't turn around as he answers his lover.

"Can't it wait?" Mello brushes Matt's request aside, his eyes still glued to the paper in front of him. "I'm a little busy."

As he speaks, he takes a bite of the half-eaten bar of chocolate clutched in his free hand.

"No, Mels. It can't."

Matt tries to be forceful; he has to get Mello to listen to him _now. _Because if he doesn't listen _now_, then Matt's not sure that he'll be able to say it again.

Irritated, Mello turns around in his chair – straddling it the wrong way round. He presses his chin against the hard plastic at top of the chair, and sighs.

He presses his middle finger to the bridge of his nose, and closes his eyes before replying.

"What could be so fucking urgent that you need to tell me _right_ _now_? Can't you see that I'm busy?" he snaps, shaking his head slightly.

That's something which Matt hates about Mello. The way that he can make anything seem irrelevant and insignificant, the way that he can brush off anything Matt wants to say with a dismissive wave of his hand, or a simple "I'm too busy."

Because, no matter how important Matt is to him, he's just too damn busy with the Kira case.

_No. It's not that. He doesn't give a shit about catching Kira._

Mello's ambition is not to capture Kira, the psychopathic mass murderer roaming free around the streets of Japan.

No.

His ambition is not to avenge the man who he had respected more than anybody else in the entire world; the man who he had trusted with all of his heart; the man who was unkindly, unfairly, unjustly killed by Kira in a fit of cruel, heartless hate.

No.

Because his pure ambition is to beat Near. His ambition is to solve the puzzle before Nate River, his rival, gets a chance to.

And Matt hates that.

"Mihael Keehl, I want you to listen to me." Matt says, his voice low and serious. "Right now."

If Mello is surprised at the full name usage, he doesn't show it. Instead, he gives a dramatic sigh, and half drops, half throws the pen in his hand to the slightly grubby cream carpet below.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Ignoring Mello's rudeness - it's a part of who he is - Matt gets up off the bed slowly, and crosses the room to where Mello is rolling his intense blue eyes.

_They're such striking eyes, _Matt notes. _Such stunning, expressive, beautiful eyes._

Matt stops in front of Mello's chair, and looks downwards at his lover.

"I want… No, I _need _you to make a decision." He says quietly.

Mello brushes a few strands of glossy blonde out of his face as his eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion.

"About what, hm?"

_Here goes nothing._

Because he's nervous. He really doesn't want to force Mello to make a decision – it doesn't seem fair. To make someone choose between two of the most important things in their life… it seems cruel and heartless.

But he has to.

Because it hurts him too much to remain as they are.

So, Matt swallows the lump in his throat, and takes a non-visible breath in.

"I want you to choose… It's either me, or Near."

There. He's said it now; it's off his chest. It feels as though a huge weight has been dropped from his shoulders; a weight he didn't realise he was carrying.

He feels bolder now.

"But, it's not really a decision, is it, Matty?" Mello purrs, obviously out of his bad mood.

He gets up off the chair, slinks over to his lover, and seductively presses his body against Matt's.

Matt can't help but to shudder as Mello runs a finger up his back_ very slowly_. Mello has a devious look on his face; a look that Matt is so very used to.

Mello presses his lips to Matt's jaw line, and trails kisses up and down, up and down, up and down. His warm breath on Matt's face sends tingles down the redhead's spine.

Matt knows that Mello is teasing him, and, for once, he doesn't mind.

Matt buries his face into Mello's silky blonde hair, and inhales, breathing in the scent that _is _Mello; chocolate, leather and gunpowder.

And he smiles.

"Because I'm not in love with Near, am I?" Mello teases.

Matt sighs, and his heart sinks.

Because, of course, it would never have been that simple. Mello would never have chosen him, no questions asked.

Gently, Matt pushes himself away from Mello. He watches as Mello raises an eyebrow in slight amusement; a cocky expression on his handsome face.

It's another expression that Matt is so very used to.

"…No, Mels. I know that you're not in love with Near. That's not what I'm asking you. I want you to choose between loving me, and beating Near."

Mello is silent, and Matt gulps.

Mello is at his most terrifying when he is silent; it's the calm before the ferocious, unforgiving storm. It always is.

But then, slowly, Mello opens his mouth.

"Beating Near? Loving you? They're completely fucking different!" he exclaims angrily. "Are you serious?" he demands.

"Yes." Matt says quietly.

"Fuck you. You want me to choose between my love life, and my job? You _don't_ want me to capture Kira? Is that what you want, Matty?" He fires the questions at Matt like he would fire a gun. "It's evil, Matt, to let a murderer run free. I would have thought that even _you _would have known that." Mello's voice is now harsh and unforgiving.

Matt rolls his eyes behind his goggles, hoping that Mello won't notice.

That is another thing that he hates about Mello.

How he can turn any situation around to make himself seem like the greater person; the person who's 'right'. How he can completely distort the words Matt speaks, and make them sound wrong and dirty and ugly.

"That's not what I said." Matt says calmly. He closes his eyes for the briefest second, his patience wearing thin.

"That's what you fuckin' _meant_!" Mello yells.

_Great. He's started yelling.  
><em>

Mello is impossible once he starts yelling.

"No, it's not!" Matt can't help but to raise his voice too. It's the only way to get his point across. "I didn't mean it like that! I don't want Kira to run free! I just…" he trails off, and shrugs helplessly.

"What did you mean then, huh? Why are you forcing me to choose?" Mello yells, glaring at the striped man in front of him. "If you really loved me, then you wouldn't force me to fucking choose!"

_There he goes again, twisting my words and intentions into something they're not._

"Look, Mels, I'm sick of being someone in the background of your life, okay? I'm always there when _you_ need _me_, but when _I_ need _you_, you don't have time. You're always '_too busy'. _Ever since you started working on this stupid Kira case – since you started trying to beat Near – it seems like you've forgotten me. And it hurts, Mello. More than you can imagine."

"Oh, for God's sake, Matt, toughen the fuck up!" Mello rolls his eyes.

They're smouldering like liquid fire; it almost hurts to look at them. They're burning, burning, burning. They're painful. They're beautiful.

"You're so bloody whiny; it's so annoy-"

"Can you remember the last time we had sex?" Matt interrupts.

Mello pauses, his mouth open. He then closes it slowly, and narrows his eyes. "What the fuck are you talking about? We had sex last night, for Christ's sake. You're so stupid, Matt."

Matt nods his head; choosing to ignore the unnecessary insult. He then raises a dark eyebrow. "Right. And how long did it last?"

Mello scowls, his face scrunching up with infuriation.

It doesn't surprise Matt that, even when Mello's face is scrunched up with rage, he still looks beautiful. That even though his dark blue eyes are filled with loathing and hurt, Matt can't help but melt into them.

His eyes still take Matt's breath away, like they did all those years ago. Because Matt's memories haven't faded, they've only brightened and glowed.

Bittersweet nostalgia.

Mello is silent. His dark pink lips have formed the smallest pout.

"Can't remember, huh?" Matt asks sharply. "I'll tell you, then. It lasted _five minutes._"

Mello sighs in irritation, and runs a hand through his dark blonde hair. "You told me that you liked it hard and fast. Remember?"

_Of course I remember._

Matt shakes his head, annoyed. "Don't go and turn this around and make _me _seem like the bad guy; the one at fault. You're the one being a bitch here."

Before he can avoid it, Mello's fist connects with his face.

The rings on Mello's fingers cut into Matt's flesh, leaving behind bleeding cuts. Matt's cheek throbs, and feels raw and instantly bruised.

"Don't you _dare _call me a bitch." Mello snarls. "You jerk."

And in that moment, Matt wants to cry, even though he hasn't shed tears since he was a child.

Mello's never hit him before.

Matt takes a few steps backwards, raises a shaking hand to rub his aching face, and looks Mello straight in the eye. "For God's sake! Do I mean that little to you, Mels? Do you think that you can treat me like crap when you're frustrated? Because you can't, alright? I'm so fucking sick of it."

In an instant, Mello's lithe arms are around Matt's slim waist, his face buried into Matt's well-toned chest.

"Oh God. I'm so, _so_ sorry, Matty. I'm not sure what came over me." Mello says, his voice muffled by the soft fabric of Matt's shirt.

_No. You never do._

He pulls away from his boyfriend's chest slightly, and winces at the sight of Matt's red, swollen skin. Gently, he holds his hand up to stroke it soothingly; rubbing small, calm circles in the tender skin.

"I hope I haven't hurt you too much." His voice is dripping with sorrow and guilt, and, for a second, Matt thinks that everything will be okay.

But then he remembers. The stabbing, piercing pain in his chest reminds him. Because as stupidly sappy as it sounds, Matt is pretty sure that he can feel his heart breaking; crumbling into a million tiny pieces.

Near's absolute brilliance is driving a wedge between himself and Mello, and all Matt wants is for it to stop.

And in that instance, Matt hates Near from the bottom of his heart. He hates Near for being 'Number One', for being smarter than Mello. Because as cruel and as unfair as it sounds, Matt hates Near for winning against Mello all those years ago.

So Matt sighs, not knowing what to say.

He's used to Mello's mood swings - of course he is – but it still scares him how his lover can be ecstatic, depressed, furious, and remorseful all in the space of a mere ten minutes. But just because he's gotten used to the horrible moods, doesn't mean that he has accepted them.

So, instead of speaking, he takes a few steps backwards, therefore breaking the hug, and causing Mello's arms to drop and hang limply by his side.

"Look, I'm going outside. I'll be back in an hour or so. Please have made your decision by then." Matt says firmly.

As he shuts the door, the sound of Mello screeching in rage and the sound of shattering glass rings throughout the hallway of the apartment complex.

And, as Matt walks out of the apartment, he hopes with all his might that Mello will choose him over Near.

Because Matt loves him more than anything in the world.


	2. Answer

Author's note: Hey to anyone who's reading!~ This is the second chapter, obviously, and I've got the last one typed up, so I'll post it in a few days (: A special thanks to "XxHeartlessKissxX for her really nice review~ (: Glad you like it!  
>If you read this, please, <em>please<em> review (: I need reviews like Mello needs chocolate. *Says with a straight face.* Hahaha.

~Rainbow Fruit Loop.

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><p>~Forever and Always~<br>_Chapter Two_

Fifty eight and a half minutes later, Matt takes a deep breath. His heart is pounding in his throat, and he is sweating.

But, at the very bottom of his heart, he believes that Mello will have chosen him.

How could he not? They've been best friends for five years, and lovers for a year and a half. How could he choose Near – a frustratingly annoying freak - over him?

Matt realises that he smells strongly of smoke; he always believes that cigarettes make him feel calm. He hopes that Mello won't mind _too _much; because 'calm' is what he needs right now.

But, when Matt opens the door to reveal an ashen-faced, miserable Mello holding a large, slightly battered cardboard box filled to the brim with all of Matt's belongings, Matt loses any sense of 'calm' he may have had.

"Is that…? Are you…? Y-You're chucking me out?" he manages to choke out, bewildered and aghast.

_No…_

_Please, no…_

Matt doesn't want it to end. He's scared, and his weakness disgusts him.

Silently, Mello hands him the box. He then looks down at the cream carpet, and scrunches his face up slightly. His hands make their way into the pockets of his tight leather pants, and he kicks gently at the edge of the bookcase next to him.

Everything feels awkward; Mello can't look Matt in the eye.

"Please, _please _don't tell me you chose _him_ over _me_…"

Because as much as Matt denied it in the beginning, that's what is comes down to.

"You _made_ me choose, Matty, and I've devoted my _entire fucking_ _life _to beating Near. I can't just stop now! I don't want to be a fucking loser; a quitter. I can't _stand_ being 'Number Two' for much longer. It's going to crush me." Mello spits.

But who does Mello think he is? He's tearing their love to pieces.

Matt is silent – he feels sick to his stomach – and he waits for Mello to continue.

_Is… Is he for real?_

_Or is this just some stupid, warped trick he's playing?_

_Oh shit._

Mello takes a deep breath, obviously to calm himself down. "Sorry. I told myself that I wasn't going to yell."

Matt nods slowly – still not trusting himself to speak - and fingers the hem of his stripey shirt with shaking hands.

"But, you know, Matty, I once thought: 'I'll kill anyone who gets in my way. I'll be Number One.' I still think that, but I'm not going to kill you."

Mello shifts awkwardly, and scratches lightly at his forehead.

"Even though you know me well enough to write a book about me… even though you know my face well enough to draw a sketch of me with your eyes closed… and even though you know my real name… Even though you're now a fucking _threat_ to me, I'm not going to – and don't want to – kill you." Mello says, his voice trailing off to barely over a whisper. "I don't want to say goodbye to you, Matt, but…"

Mello's eyes are still glued to the carpet.

After a long silence, Matt manages to open his mouth, and form a coherent sentence.

"Are you joking, Mels?"

Finally, Mello raises his stunning cobalt eyes from the carpet, to gaze into Matt's emerald orbs, causing blue to meet with green with a spark of something akin to electricity.

Because the passionate romance is still there.

"No, I'm not."

"So… This is it then?" Matt asks, his voice shaking. "You've definitely chosen Near… over me?"

He feels so angry, yet he feels so sad. He doesn't know which emotion is stronger. Because everything is blurring; fusing into oblivion.

"Yes… We can still be friends, though, yeah?" Mello asks.

He knows that Matt will say no. He knows that they can't be friends anymore. But he says it anyway; it needs to be said.

Just in case.

"No. I don't think we can." Matt says hotly.

"For Fuck's sake, Matt. You don't have to be so bloody dramatic." Mello breathes, frowning.

But they both know what Mello actually means. Because, somewhere, buried deep within the harsh words, lies a hidden apology.

Because Mello is notoriously bad at apologizing.

"I'm sorry too, Mello. I really am." Matt inhales sharply, and frowns. "I guess… I guess I'll be going now."

He turns around, and heads for the door.

He can't believe it. He honestly can't.

Mello doesn't need him anymore.

And it confuses him. Because, when did Mello ever let his head rule his heart?

His mind is spinning with beautiful images of _his _Mello, like some sort of sick, twisted slideshow.

Mello smiling his adorable, half-asleep smile, which would only make itself present when the two awoke in each others arms.

Mello kissing him in the rare, glistening white snow, his cheeks lightly tinged with pink because of the cold.

Mello laughing with him as he attempted to win a race in 'Mario Carts' – a competition he knew he would _never_ win; but trying nonetheless.

Mello eating a huge chocolate ice cream at a wharf with him, complaining about how the chocolate ice cream 'doesn't taste how chocolate fucking should' – but eating it within seconds all the same.

Mello. His gorgeous, dazzling, absolutely terrifying Mello.

"Wait…" Mello says suddenly. His voice is uncharacteristically soft.

Matt turns around, confused.

"What?" he asks hotly.

His voice comes out harsher than he had meant it.

"Why did you think I'd choose you? You know how important winning is to me."

For some odd reason, Mello's words are not full of malice and disapproval and cruel teasing. He sounds honestly curious as to why Matt would think that he would give up _everything _for him.

Even so, the words sting a _lot _more than they should.

"Why did I think you'd choose me?" Matt repeats glumly. "Well, I guess that I just thought that, when it came down to it, you'd choose me. I thought that, after everything we've been through, you'd be happy staying by my side. Remember that promise we made when we were children at Wammy's? Forever and always, remember?"

Mello bites down on his bottom lip, and winces at the memory.

"I… I'm sorry." Mello says simply.

Matt can't help but to be shocked at Mello's apology.

Because Mello never shows regret.

"I'm sorry that I've broken my promise. But… I need to beat Near… I need to win…"

It's in that moment that Matt realises that Mello's hurting too.

"I'm so sorry." He repeats softly. "I'm so fucking sorry."

Matt sighs, knowing that there is no chance that Mello is going to change his mind.

He feels like curling up into a ball and crying; sobbing his heart out until he can't stand the pain for much longer. He wants to close his eyes, and never, _ever _open them again.

And the amount of emotion he's feeling scares him.

Because, although Matt is supposed to be strong, intelligent, and completely and utterly badass, Mail Jeevas has always been afraid, emotional, and hopelessly, helplessly and irrevocably in love.

Matt has always been weak on the inside.

"I know you are." Matt says quietly. "Thank you… thank you for saying it."

There's a bit of a silence, and Matt shifts awkwardly; distributing the weight of the large box from one hip to the other.

"I guess I'll be off, then." Matt says, looking at the door.

He needs to get out; he needs to be by himself.

His world is spinning; twisting and turning with a ferocious malevolence.

"Hold on, Matty." Mello murmurs.

Matt turns around again, and frowns.

Why doesn't Mello realise that he needs to be alone?

Mello walks up to him with an atypical nervousness, and takes the box out of Matt's hands. Matt watches as Mello places the box down, before stepping closer to him, and gently pressing his lips to the redhead's.

"Something to remember me by." Mello murmurs against Matt's lips.

Before he can stop himself, Matt is kissing back, lightly running his tongue over Mello's smooth, soft pink lips. Without knowing when it happened, Matt's fingers are tangled in Mello's smooth, blonde hair, drawing his ex-boyfriend closer, closer, closer, until there's almost no space left between them.

Mello's fingers have drifted down to rest precariously low on Matt's hips, and are tracing small, light patterns on the exposed skin. The sensation causes tingles to run down Matt's spine, and he can't help but to moan into Mello's lips.

Matt knows that he shouldn't be kissing Mello like this; it'll only make it all the more harder to let him go, but it just feels _so damn good._

There is a sudden urgency in Mello's kiss, and the blonde deepens said kiss by pushing his body against Matt's; desperately, passionately, and for the very last time.

Their kiss is full of despair, loneliness, hurt, and melancholy, and neither of the men want it to end, but they both know that it must.

The decision has been made, and nothing can change it.

Matt knows that this will be the last time that he will feel Mello's lips on his, and it hurts more than he could have imagined.

Because Mello completes him; Mello is his life.

Eventually, Matt regains his senses, and gently pushes Mello away from him.

Both men are breathing heavily, and look guiltily dishevelled.

It takes a minute for Mello to speak up.

"I love you, Matty. I really do. And I'm really, really sorry for have hurting you in the past few weeks. I didn't mean to. I honestly didn't. Are… Are you sure that I have to make this decision?"

Matt nods his head.

Because now that he knows Mello's answer, it would be hard for him to forget about it, and forgive his ex-lover. Because now that Matt knows that he comes second in Mello's life, it would be hard for him to pretend that it didn't hurt.

Because Matt knows that he will never look at Mello in the same light ever again.

"This is it, Mels." Matt says. "Goodbye."

Matt picks up his box, turns to the door, and angrily wipes at a tear threatening to spill over.

He shouldn't be crying. He should be too badass to cry.

And, as he opens the door, ready to leave for the second time that day, he hears Mello speak.

"Goodbye, Matty. I promise I won't forget you."

But Matt doesn't believe him.

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><p>Please, please review~ (:<p> 


	3. Consequence

Author's note: Naw. Last chapter already (: So sad. Haha. Thanks, guys, for all of your reviews! They really mean a lot to me (:  
>I was going to leave this fic with a depressing ending, but then I thought, "Even I'm not <em>that <em>mean." So, yup. Happy ending... kind of. Ah, just read it. (:  
>Please review this last chapter~<p>

~Rainbow Fruit Loop x

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><p>~Forever and Always~<br>_Chapter Three_

Mello lies on the large, empty bed, his glossy golden hair splayed out around him like halo.

But he doesn't feel like an angel. A fallen angel, perhaps, but not a pure one.

Not a proper one.

Mello feels heinous, malignant, perverse, devilish.

He feels evil.

Because he shouldn't have let Matt go.

Not when he needed Matt, and Matt needed him.

With an angry frustration, Mello rolls over, and buries his face into his pillow.

He breathes deeply, inhaling the fading scent of smoke.

Mello feels lonely on the large bed without Matt's warm, soft body pressing into his. He doesn't lying alone; the space beside him feels unnatural. He doesn't like being able to stretch out as far as he can; the only thing he can feel being ruffled-up duvets, cold blankets and strangely crisp sheets.

He's slept next to Matt for far too long; as long as he can remember, in fact. And now that Matt's gone, Mello hasn't slept for over a week.

The apartment smells like alcohol; drowning his sorrows in vodka is second nature to Mello.

But he misses the smell of the thick, lazy smoke that _was _Matt.

And no amount of alcohol can make him forget that.

Of course Mello hates Matt for forcing him to choose between himself and Near. Of course he hates that he had to choose between the two things most important to him.

And of course he hates himself for making the wrong decision.

But now, he realises how important the decision was to Matt. And he honestly hadn't realised that he had been neglecting his redheaded lover.

He was just so busy.

If he could go back in time - to one week ago, to be precise - Mello would. And he would make sure that he would grab Matt by his shirt – that black and red striped shirt that Mello loves so very much – and pull their lips together in a clash of passion and lust and love.

He would make sure that the only words he would utter would be: "I choose you, you sappy fool. I love you, Matty."

But, of course, those sorts of sappy, romantic scenes only ever happen in stupid, predictable, but admittedly heart wrenching chick-flick type movies.

The type of movie that Mello and Matt would watch curled up on the large sofa together – a bag of extra-buttery, half-cooked (Mello loves eating the kernels by themselves) popcorn between them – both men teasing the sappiness of it all.

The type of movie which would end with Matt laughing at the ridiculousness of everything until he couldn't breathe. The type of movie which would end with Mello realising how lucky he was to have such a great guy at his side.

The type of movie that Mello wishes was real life. The type of movie, where, although you know that the protagonist will make a stupid mistake, you know that they'll always be forgiven in the end, and that they'll get the person of their dreams.

The type of movie where everything works out in the end.

But real life isn't quite so forgiving.

Mello doesn't quite know how long he lies on the bed, thinking, remembering, wishing, dreaming, but eventually he sits up, and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

He doesn't remember falling asleep.

He glances down at his body, and frowns at nothing in particular.

He's wearing his tight, scruffy black jeans (no leather today; he's not feeling brave enough), a black shirt, his favourite dark red jacket with the white fur around the hood, and his fluffy black ugg boots with the little pompoms on them.

Mello looks painstakingly beautiful, and it's no wonder that people look at him and dream of doing wicked, _wicked_ things to him.

And it's in that moment that the hideously obvious realization hits him.

Mello can't face the world without Matt by his side.

* * *

><p>He doesn't bother to change his footwear before he runs out of the apartment; the only change in his outfit being the large black glasses he's wearing to stop people from knowing who he is.<p>

He doesn't bother to make sure that the door is properly locked before he races out into the hallway, and comes to a skidding halt at the elevator.

He hits the 'down' button on the wall with an unnecessary force, and waits, waits, waits, as the elevator slowly makes its way upwards from one of the lower floors.

Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Finally, the doors open with a 'ping', and Mello races inside, fingers scrambling desperately at the large metal buttons.

The way down seems like an eternity to Mello; time has a way of slowing down when he needs it to hurry up.

It reminds Mello of something Matt used to say to him.

"_You race through life with an impulsive recklessness, making sure that you do everything to the extreme, not worrying about the end result. You don't worry about crashing at the end; you don't worry about falling and burning. You live life to its fullest, but you need to slow down, Mels. Life is short, and you need to be here, with me, for as long as you can."_

How could he have ever let someone as breathtaking as Matt go?

He's stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Because Mello needs Matt. He needs Matt to tell him when it's okay to stop; when it's okay to slow down and enjoy the view. He needs Matt to remind him that, when he's doing something dangerous, he could be killed because life is unfairly short.

Mello needs Matt to help him when he _does _crash.

Mello's off running again as soon as the elevator comes to a stop. He knows where he's going; he knows where Matt will be hiding.

He's running through the overcrowded, dusty streets of L.A., ignoring the anxious glances he's receiving from random people wandering down the streets like they have all day.

All he cares about is reaching Matt.

_Fuck… I hope he forgives me…._

As he runs, a young woman steps out in front of him. Without any hesitance, Mello violently pushes her to the side, causing her to fall over onto the cobble stoned street.

"Out of my fucking way!" he screeches.

Mello knows that he's beyond hysterical now, but he can't help it.

Time really is moving too slowly.

And he's running as though his life depends on it.

But he thinks that maybe it does.

* * *

><p>Finally, Mello stops for breath as he reaches the stairs descending to Matt's hideout. The hideout is in the basement of an abandoned warehouse; away from any prying eyes.<p>

_Breathe, Mello._

Mello's nervous. He's scared of what Matt will say to him, and what Matt might do to him.

But, then again, Matt's always been a bit of a passive aggressive.

Mello takes another deep breath, and descends the staircase; one step at a time.

He's moving as slow as humanly possible.

But, when he reaches the bottom of the staircase, he notices a piece of paper folded up and shoved through the bottom of the door.

He can see the letter 'M' written on it in Matt's slightly messy handwriting.

Mello frowns, and bends down to pick it up. His heart is beating in his throat; and for an unexplainable reason, his insides are doing somersaults.

_Why's there a letter here… for me?_

Mello rips open the letter, and what he reads breaks his heart.

Because it's a suicide note.

'_Mels,_

_I know that you'll be the one to find me and this letter, because no one else knows where my hideout is. So I'm addressing my last words to you._

_I've probably made a bit of a hasty decision. But you've known me long enough to understand that… I'm weak. Deep down, buried underneath my tough, smartass façade, I'm weak. I've done what I think I needed to do, and I'm truly sorry if my decision hurts you._

_When I asked you to choose between myself and Near, I swear I wasn't doing it to be an asshole. It's just… I really needed to know how important I was to you. 'Cause I didn't like feeling like I came second in your life. It made me so lonely, Mello._

_Like I said when you asked me, though, I don't really know why I thought you'd choose me. Maybe I just thought that my love for you was strong enough to tie us together for the rest of our lives? I guess I was wrong, huh? I always was a hopeless romantic. And you know that more than anyone._

_But, after recent events, I've come to realise that I love you more than you love me. And it hurts me to have come to this conclusion. To think that you'd rather win your one-sided competition with Near than to be happy with me… It hurts, Mels. It makes me feel so empty, and so cold inside._

_By this point - hell, that's if you're even still reading my nonsense - you're probably wondering what's with all the dramatics. You're probably thinking to yourself, 'Toughen up, Matt, and get a fucking life.' I know you too well, Mels. Or rather, _knew_ you too well._

_It's just… The thought of taking on the world without you terrifies me, Mels, and I'm just too scared to try. Because I could be anywhere in the world, but I'd choose to be with you, because life is just _better_ with you by my side._

_I would be lying if I told you that I didn't love you anymore – I love you more than you know. But I need to get out, Mels. I need to escape from this life._

_So, this will be the last time you will hear from me. Try to forget about me – be strong. Be the man I fell in love with. But… if you can't forget, then remember all of the good times; the sweet, sweet moments we shared together. That's what I'll be thinking about in my last minutes. _

_Mels, I'm genuinely sorry that you didn't choose me. And I'm also sorry that I'm not brave enough, nor strong enough to forgive and forget what you did. Or rather, what you didn't do. _

_I love you._

_M. Jeevas.'_

Mello stares at the slightly crumpled white letter blankly. His hands are shaking, and his chest feels tight.

_Is this…? What's he trying to…? Has he…?_

Mello's mind can't form a coherent sentence.

_Of course this… this… this _suicide note_ can't be real; Matt can't be gone. That's just stupid. Matt wouldn't have… wouldn't have… killed himself… because of what I did…_

…_Would he?_

_No…_

_No!_

Mello reads the letter again; trying to comprehend what it means; trying to find the hidden messages inside.

But deep down, he knows that Matt is serious. Matt wouldn't joke about something as severe as death.

Mello's breaths start coming out in short, sharp pants.

He thinks that maybe he's having a panic attack.

And then he gasps, and clutches at his chest, nails digging into the soft skin, leaving behind deep red marks.

Because it hurts _so much._

His heart is breaking; and it's a deep, agonizing, excruciatingly insufferable pain.

It's the type of pain that makes him want to scream, and scares him that he's not.

"_Matt_!" he screeches. "_Oh my God, Matt_!" He bangs his fists on the wooden door, and he tries to ignore the fact that he's trembling.

Bang, bang, bang.

He continues to pound on the door, his fists becoming raw and sore.

Bang, bang, bang.

"_For Fuck's sake, Matt! Open up!_" Mello shrieks, even though he knows his attempts are futile. "_What the hell are you doing? Matt!"_

When punching at the door gives no result, Mello raises his leg – fluffy ugg boots and all - and kicks _hard _at the door.

He probably shouldn't be kicking Matt's door down, but right now he's too scared, too upset, and too hysterical to think logically.

After a few well-aimed kicks, the door crashes to the slightly dusty floor, and Mello streaks into the room.

He immediately notices Matt.

And the blood.

_Oh… my… God…_

Mello gives a frightened whimper, and races over to where Matt's lifeless body is draped over the sofa.

_He's fucking serious._

Mello immediately notices that the blood is coming from the deep slashes in both of Matt's wrists.

_Fuck… I… _I_ did this to Matty… It's all my fault._

Gently, yet with a blazing urgency, Mello lifts Matt's right arm up, and attempts to wipe away the blood. It's thick, and red, and warm, and it's refusing to stop flowing.

_What do I do…?_

_Oh fuck. What the hell do I do?_

The only thing that keeps Mello from giving up is the fact that Matt's still bleeding. Because he wouldn't still be bleeding if he was dead… would he?

He still has a chance.

Because Matt can't die.

But Mello doesn't know what to do. Matt cared for him so tenderly in the aftermath of the explosion, but Mello has no clue what to do in order to save his best friend; his lover; his soul mate.

He's hopeless.

_It's all my fault that Matt's going to die._

_Oh, shit._

So, Mello does what he does best.

He improvises.

Mello grabs a handful of his black shirt, and rips at the fabric. He then wraps the fabric tightly around Matt's wrist, and does the same on the other wrist.

_That should stop Matt from bleeding out…_

_Otherwise…_

He doesn't want to think about it.

Mello then wraps his pale arms around Matt's bloody body, and buries his face in Matt's hair, knowing that he can't do anything else.

He can't call the ambulance – the same way that Matt couldn't call the ambulance after the explosion – because then the police would get involved.

It _is _an attempted suicide, after all.

And then… they'd both be found out.

And then everything would be over.

Mello's body trembles with dry sobs, and he clutches at the beaded rosary hanging around his neck like his life depends on it.

"Oh, God, Matt… Please don't be dead… Don't die… I need you. Matt, I made a mistake. I was wrong. I need you, Matty… Don't go…"

For the first time in his life, Mello is truly, truly terrified. The stabbing fear cuts at his very core, and he wants to curl up and cry.

Because, although he's been scared, Mello's never been terrified.

Not even when he found out that L was dead, and he realised that he was alone – save for Matt - in the wide, wide world. Not even when he joined the Mafia; knowing that the life was tough, and the lifespan short. Not even when he made the decision to blow up his hideout; even though he knew that he could die in the resulting explosion.

No. Mello's been scared, but never terrified.

Not until now.

"Matt…" Mello whimpers, his voice barely over a whisper. "Oh, fuck, Matt. What have you done to yourself? Don't be dead… I'll fix this, I swear. I'll make it all better…" he promises, even though Matt's not conscious. "I swear, I'll save you, and fix my mistake…"

_He may not even be alive._

Mello holds Matt's body closer to himself, not even really noticing – and much less _caring_ – that the dark red blood all over Matt's body is ruining his favourite red jacket.

His eyes sting with a burning sensation; he needs to cry, but the tears stubbornly refuse to fall.

But then, as Mello pulls Matt's chest tighter against his own, he feels it.

It's vague, but it's there.

A heartbeat.

_Matt…?_

"Matt? Can you hear me? Matt?" Mello whispers. "Are you alive, Matt?"

And then Mello hears something. It's quiet, and harmonious, and the most beautiful sound in the whole entire world.

"…Mello…?"

And before Mello can help it, the glistening tears are falling. They're running down his face, and dripping off his chin; falling onto Matt's cheeks.

Mello's gasping with a breathless relief, trembling with intense emotion.

It's strange, though. Because Mello always considered crying to represent something painful and miserable, but, right now, he feels happier than he ever has before.

"Matt… You're alive? Oh, God, Matty, I thought I'd lost you…" Mello chokes. "Don't do that to me ever again…"

There's a bit of a silence, and then Matt opens his emerald eyes slowly, blinking at the harsh light.

"Is this… a dream?" he breathes. "You look like… You look like an angel, Mels. Am I dead?"

Mello's bottom lip trembles, and he pulls Matt's body closer.

"No, Matty. You're not dead. I'm real. I came back for you. Everything's going to be fine." Mello tries to whisper comforting words. "Everything's going to be fine."

Anything to make it better.

"I didn't… didn't think you cared…" Matt murmurs slowly.

Mello's jaw drops open, and he's overwhelmed by guilt.

"You don't think that I'd care if you killed yourself? Of course I fucking care, Matt…" Mello whimpers, horrified that Matt would think something like that.

In this moment, Mello hates himself.

"I made such a stupid mistake, Matt… I love you more than anything." Mello whispers.

But there's silence, and Mello realises that Matt's drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Come on, Matty, wake up." Mello demands, his heart beating furiously.

_What if I'm too late? What if he's going to die?_

But then Matt opens his eyes again – it's such a struggle, because the pain is unbearable; it's stabbing, stabbing, stabbing - and Mello breathes a sigh of relief.

"It's so… so dark, Mels. So dark."

"I know, Matty. But you're going to be fine." Mello assures him with an uneven voice. "You won't die. I promise you'll be fine."

But he thinks that maybe he's lying.

"I'm not… I'm not talking about dying, Mels." Matt says.

Mello frowns, and pulls back from Matt, confusion obvious in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Mello asks softly.

"Knowing that you didn't… didn't need me anymore… It was so dark, and so cold… That's why… That's why I…" Matt breaks off to nod at his wrists. "I wanted to disappear. Because I'm nothing without you, Mels."

Those simple words break Mello's heart. Matt sounds so sad, so pathetically vulnerable, and Mello can't believe that it's _all his fault._

"But I do need you." Mello's voice cracks, and crystal tears threaten to spill over again. "I made a mistake, Matt. I _do _need you. Please… please forgive me… You're my everything. Because when I'm with you, life's better than dreams. You're the yin to my yang, the blood to my veins, the… I don't know… the cocoa to my chocolate, or whatever other simile-like shit you can think of. We're… forever and always, remember? Because I promise to love and to cherish you until death do us part. I won't make the mistake of letting you go again. Because we're meant to be together as long as we both shall live…"

Matt chuckles dryly, and his eyes slip closed.

He's tired.

"You don't know… how much I wanted to hear you say that… But… You make it sound like we're… like we're getting married or something."

"Alright." Mello says simply.

Matt opens his eyes again - ignoring the little voice in his head telling him that he's _tired _and that he _needs_ to drift off into a dark, blurry state of unconsciousness.

And Mello can't be serious… can he?

"Are you… You're not… Are you serious? What are you saying?"

Mello bends forwards, and delicately presses his lips to Matt's slightly blood-stained ones.

"Only if you forgive me, Matty."

Matt gives a warm, slightly nervous smile. Because he's still scared that, maybe, just maybe, Mello might be joking.

Because Mello can be wickedly cruel sometimes.

But Matt knows that, after Mello's heartbreaking speech, he can't let everything end. Because it's like Mello said… They're meant to be together as long as they both shall live. Because fate wouldn't have given them a second chance if that wasn't the case… right?

"… I forgive you, Mels. I can't live without you, anyways."

Mello smiles.

"Marry me, Mail Jeevas."

And Matt grins; a smile so bright, that it lights up the room, and Mello can't help but to laugh, in spite of the still-present gravity of the situation.

Because, even though the crimson blood is still drenching Matt's shirt, staining Mello's jacket, and splattered on the floor, everything's changed.

Because, although the deep slashes in Matt's wrists symbolise the wound in their relationship, both men know that bloody scars heal and eventually fade into nothingness.

"Yes, Mels. …I'll marry you."

And, in that moment, Mello knows that everything will be alright.

Matt's not going to die; not now that they both have something to live for.

…Because they're forever and always.


End file.
